The Terminator's Salvation
by DeathScythe01D
Summary: Why did Marcus Wright, the new Terminator, really give his life for John Connor in the end? Set in an AU with slightly changed settings of the interrogation situation and the escape after Marcus has tripped the mine and is captured by the resistance.


**Title:** The Terminator's Salvation  
**Author:** DeathScythe  
**Fandom:** Terminator Salvation (AU)  
**Pairing:** John Connor / Marcus Wright  
**Rating:** M  
**Chapters:** 1  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places etc. of the "Terminator" franchise, they are property of their creators and original copyright holders, no money is made with this story.  
**Archive:** VinXperience and  
**Feedback: **Anytime, anywhere, constructive criticism if you please.  
**Summary:** Why did Marcus Wright, the new Terminator, really give his life for John Connor in the end? Set in an AU with slightly changed settings of the interrogation situation and the escape after Marcus has tripped the mine and is captured by the resistance.  
**Author's Notes:** For simplicity's sake I'm already calling John the leader of the resistance, although in the movie he'll only be at a later point; we're in an AU after all. Many thanks to the lovely Bitten, my fabulous beta and constant source of inspiration. 

**The Terminator's Salvation**

"Let me down," the creature named Marcus demanded.

"If I let you down, you'll kill everyone in this room."

The thing shook its head. "Just you, Connor, 'cause I ain't give a shit about you. I didn't even know your name 'till two days ago."

John Connor frowned, saying, "no," as he walked forward, crossing the short distance between himself and the other man.

Marcus tried to shift, hands already numbing from the chains that bound him to the... He looked at the two women flanking Connor, Blair and the doctor, who were openly staring at him, and 'pillory' was the word that suddenly came to his mind. They'd put him on a pillory, showcasing him to the resistance as if he was a goddamn freak show.

In reality, his hands were chained to a train axle, feet tightly secured to an iron bar, and the whole construction hung over a seemingly bottomless pit. As escape-proof as it would ever get.

Connor blocked his view and Marcus held his gaze, jaw set. "You and me," the older man stated, "we've been at war since before either of us even existed." Marcus swallowed hard, but John continued, accusation evident in his now threateningly low voice, "you tried killing my mother, Sarah Connor. You killed my father, Kyle Reese. You will not kill me."

"Kyle Reese is on a transporter heading for Skynet," Marcus ground out between clenched teeth. "If I wanted to kill him, I woulda done him in L.A." He continued to hold the other man's gaze and a long silence stretched between the two of them. The Terminator shifted again in an utterly futile attempt to assume a less painful position, the chains holding him chinking loudly as he moved.

Confusion was the most prominent of John's emotions as he examined the bound thing before him. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. John silently stared into the cyborg's eyes for a long while, and noticed the reflection of feelings, a human spark, in them. Barely contained anger, pain, a hint of desperation... not the ice cold trademark stare it should have in common with the others of its kind.

But was it possible? Was it possible that the devil's hands had failed to build the ultimate killer? Or was this just a cunning trick? A shiver crawled up John's spine as he tried to make up his mind. There was something sincere about this man, no, this machine, something that not even he could dismiss despite all his years of experience with Skynet and its evil machines.

Curiosity lit, Connor turned his head a little, looking over his shoulders, "I will interrogate him further. Leave us alone. No interruptions." The sharp orders of a leader.

"But John..." the red-haired woman started out, sounding alarmed because in her opinion he was about to do something obscenely stupid.

Only now did Marcus notice that she was pregnant. How could Connor ever think that he would kill innocent people? Pregnant women above all? Even though he had been charged for homicide in the past he wasn't a murderer, it had rather been an accident that had ultimately led to his conviction. That Connor accused him of being just that made Marcus choke hard on the anger that threatened to flare up.

"Leave," the leader of the resistance stated again, this time more aggravated and leaving no room for arguments. He didn't need to be lectured about the dangers of being alone in a room with a potentially dangerous creature. The fact that Kate was about to do just that, and with it questioning his authority, annoyed him greatly. After one final exchange of glares, the two women turned on their heels and left the holding room.

As soon as they were gone, Connor focused his full attention back on his prisoner. "Pretty tied up," he muttered, and Marcus blinked, trying to make some sense of what the other man had just said. Had he meant to tease, to make fun of him? Deep down inside Marcus was still hoping to wake up from the nightmare he was so obviously caught in.

"Now, how can we find out how much of a human is really left of you?" John mused loudly, scratching his beard in a pensive gesture.

"I told you that I am," the alleged Terminator retorted, brows furrowed and casting an angry glare. He was already growing tired of this game, and apparently it hadn't even started yet.

John extended his hands, pushing aside the chains that were dangling over the other man's chest. The feel of Marcus's skin was smooth under his hands, human, but through the holes the explosion had ripped, the insides were partly visible.

Marcus trembled under the touch but held his tongue, until John slowly brought his head in close, turning it so that the side of his face touched his skin just above the heart.

"What are you doing?" the captive inquired.

"Sssh!"

Connor wanted to listen to his heartbeat, to hear if there was truly a human heart hidden below that smooth skin or if it was fake and mechanical. Kate had said it was real, he trusted her of course, but still he needed to check for himself. John pressed his ear close to the man's chest, keeping his own breathing low and listening to the steady, albeit accelerated, rhythm of a very human heart.

His nostrils flared as the man-machine's musky scent filled his nose and John inadvertently closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. In his mind, his thoughts started spinning in circles. By definition, this thing was a cyborg because parts of it were artificial. But it had a human heart and brain, it smelled like a human, it had helped Blair. It had come here to save Kyle and not kill him, it was offering help. Did this really qualify the being before him as a machine? Or did it rather qualify him as being human? It was a question that John still wasn't able to answer, yet he felt his dislike recede bit by bit and found himself referring to this being as a man, a him, Marcus.

Marcus looked down at Connor, confused by what the other man was doing. Although his heart now beat wildly in his chest, he tried to hold as still as possible; so still in fact that he forgot to breathe for almost a minute. Then, when he ran out of air, he drew in a deep and hasty breath.

John startled and jerked his head away from the chest, accidentally brushing his lips over the thing's... no, Marcus's skin. Out of reflex, he licked his lips; the man-machine tasted as good as he smelled. Something inside John stirred and, for a second there, he felt remotely embarrassed about what he was doing; he'd never really been close to another man outside the battlefield. And there was quite clearly a huge difference between patching up wounded comrades in various places and doing [i]this[/i].

More food for thought as he pulled back slowly, purposefully letting one of his hands trail over Marcus's chest and causing goose bumps to erupt in its wake just to see how the man would react to it. There were a great many possibilities of exploring this body, of learning how it worked, some pleasurable, some not so much. It would take him another moment to figure out which way he wanted to go, time that should not be wasted.

"Interesting," Connor mused. "Do you like that?" He felt the body shiver under his touch.

"I'm freezing," was the answer, but John didn't quite buy it. Marcus forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths to steady his heart, which was beating even faster now. Unlike Connor, he had been involved with other men in the past, in another lifetime as it seemed, and judging by looks, the head of the resistance fit his bill quite nicely.

As much as he struggled to contain himself, Marcus was not able to keep his groin from reacting to the touches. A muted grunt that escaped his lips made John glance downward, noticing the growing bulge.

"Freezing, huh." It was a statement rather than a question, and the other man's physical reaction left Connor even more confused. Was a cyborg, a Terminator, possibly capable of feeling lust? He couldn't quite believe that Skynet had thought of setting up such a trap for him.

John squinted at the other man, scrutinizing him before he brought up his hand to caress his skin again, eliciting more goose bumps, more shivers and increasing the bulge in his pants even more.

"Why are you doing this?" Marcus demanded, trying hard to keep his voice steady even though he felt like moaning.

"Curiosity, examination... I don't know," John shrugged. He honestly still didn't know himself. Perhaps it was merely morbid curiosity, perhaps it was a bunch of closeted pervert thoughts that had surfaced all of a sudden. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to explore this body, to learn as much as he could. If that required a little contact, he was willing to put up with it. And apparently some part of his mind had already decided to go for the more pleasurable way. There was always the possibility of resorting to pain later.

"Assume I want to get to know you better," John drawled at last.

Marcus snorted disdainfully; this whole situation would've been insanely funny if he hadn't been all tied up and at someone else's mercy. He was still wishing this to be a nightmare but found his hope fading fast.

"Do you like doing this to me?" It was only a logical question, uttered in a surprisingly calm and controlled voice.

Connor cocked his head, not quite sure about the answer. Did he? Was it really just about examination? He ran his hand up the man's chest, casually brushing over a nipple, and felt an unexpected, strange tug in his own groin as he saw Marcus biting his bottom lip to keep himself from responding to the touch.

Maybe a sharp pain would help him focus on something else, Marcus told himself, but even as he tasted his own blood he had to realize his body would continue to betray him. "Do you?" he asked again, sounding a little more breathless this time. A part of him wished that Connor would say yes. The other part was afraid that he would.

John rolled the question over in his mind once more. He was curious about this creature, but underneath that curiosity was something else. It wasn't merely bodily attraction that he felt, but rather the surge of control and power he had over this man that seemed to trigger some primal instinct.

It was so very different from leading this handful of soldiers. They were at his beck and call, they would gladly sacrifice their lives for the cause, but they still retained their own free will. And there was also a difference to the machines, which knew no feelings and could only be treated with violence. This man though, he had no choice. He was helpless, completely at his mercy and [i]that[/i] was a whole new feeling for John. He felt like the pack leader, the alpha, able to take anything he wanted, whenever he wanted. His inner animal welcomed that prospect.

This particular train of thought caught him off-guard and left him startled. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and John considered stepping back, leaving, forgetting that this situation had ever occurred. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. His animal made him stay.

Marcus still had his eyes fixed on him, and John remembered the question his captive had asked earlier. Brushing a finger over the man's other nipple, he watched him fight for composure again.

"Yes, I think I'm enjoying myself. And so do you." Marcus knew better than to argue that.

"Are you going to release me?" he asked, but Connor merely shook his head.

"No. Not yet, anyway."

"Well, shit." John looked at him, not understanding, and Marcus added, cracking a hint of a wry grin, "no cuddling then."

Connor couldn't help but chuckle. To show humor in a situation like this was definitely an admirable trait. Perhaps something he would look into later. He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Marcus again who just stared at him, breathing heavily, defiant despite his situation.

The kiss was rough and clumsy, as if John had never kissed someone else before. They were lips, soft lips, and yet they felt so different simply because they belonged to a man. He felt like a school boy after his first kiss, embarrassed that he hadn't done any better. He would have to prove that he could.

Marcus opened his eyes again, surprised that he had closed them in the first place. Some reflexes were just hard to beat. He could still feel the prickling sensation of Connor's stubble on his skin, and, against all reason, a part of him wanted to feel it again, longed to be touched. It was still rather odd that he felt turned-on instead of hostile given the situation, but good bondage and sexy men did this to him sometimes.

With the taste of the first kiss still lingering on his tongue, John let his hand coil around Marcus's neck possessively and pulled him in close, his mouth capturing the other more urgently this time. He needed to prove that he was a good kisser, needed to prove that he was in control. For John this was the sole purpose, although he would always remember Marcus's taste in later years. For Marcus it meant that an avalanche of hormones had been set off that was now running rampant in his body, leaving no escape route.

Hungry, almost desperately they kissed, both men slowly understanding what was happening between them. It wasn't love, it was just raw lust for different reasons. Marcus knew he should be afraid, but he couldn't be. He was hip-deep in a flurry of lust and unable to pull out of it. And John... John reveled in his new power, basking in the feeling of control that stimulated him and kept rationality at bay. He was almost certain that if he'd stop now to consider his actions, he would regret it later, one way or the other. And time would prove him right eventually, although in a very unexpected way.

John's hands traveled down the length of Marcus's torso, hovering at the rim of what used to be perfectly intact pants. He drew a quick breath, gathering that last bit of resolve, and then clumsily undid both the button and the zipper. Marcus let out a sigh of relief when the fly flapped open and gave his erection some more space.

A moment's hesitation later, John's hands were busy again, shoving down his captive's pants as far as the bondaged state of his legs would allow. He took a moment to glance down the length of the body before him, taking in the sight of what he was about to capture.

Somewhere in the back of Marcus's mind, a tiny voice of reason faintly whispered to him, trying to caution him, to convince him that he was being abused this very moment. But Marcus dismissed the voice. It was irrational that he found pleasure in being exposed and at this man's mercy, but he did. And he wouldn't let anything ruin it for him.

He caught a glimpse of John undoing his own belt and buttons to reveal a rigid cock, and Marcus inhaled deeply, body tense with anticipation. If Connor wanted to fuck him he would either have to untie him or simply turn him around. He was betting on the latter.

The strain on his cock almost killed John, and he absently brought his hand down, stroking his own flesh. A shudder of pleasure ran through his body and it pleased him, fueled him to see that the other man was watching him with impatient hunger in his eyes. Taking another step forward, he then gripped the right side of the axle and gave it a push.

The chains rattled and chinked loudly, and John had to take a step back again as the whole device turned by almost 180 degrees, exposing Marcus's backside to him. The skin there didn't look as bad as on the front, though it had suffered burns and there were artificial bones glimpsing out from underneath the flesh. Ignoring that fact, he let his gaze travel down to Marcus's ass and it was wonderfully firm and smooth.

It occurred to John that this would be his first anal sex ever. He'd always wanted to try, but Kate had been hesitant about it all the time. There was a first time for everything though, no matter which way. He could still stop, he kept telling himself, but due to Kate's pregnancy and the impending birth he was literally starved for sex and, at this point, beyond care. This would be another guilty secret to carry to the grave. One of many.

John stepped closer again until the tip of his cock touched the naked skin before him, and was rewarded with shivers of pleasure that ran over the other body. If a mere touch could do that much to this man, how much more could he do by entering him? He extended his hands to touch the exposed buttocks, kneading them a little, and more tremors shook his captive. A few inches more that John needed to shuffle forward and he would hit home at last.

For lack of an alternative, Marcus bit down on his bottom lip hard to keep himself from moaning and begging. Crying out loud and drawing attention wouldn't help matters at all, but he was almost too close to bursting from need.

"Please," he squeezed out through clenched teeth in a hoarse plea that had John perk his ears.

For a brief moment, he wondered if it was possible to contract a sexual disease from a cyborg, if maybe this was Skynet's brilliant masterplan to wipe him from the face of Earth. It was as unlikely as the thought was hideous, and yet it was kind of frightening too. John decided to shrug it off with a small laugh. He would be fucking Marcus. And if Marcus had indeed been sent by Skynet, which he'd started to doubt, he would be fucking Skynet too.

He brought his right hand before his mouth and spit on it several times, then started spreading both the saliva and his precum thoroughly on his penis; better this than no lubrication at all. To prevent the spit from drying, John took aim and then pushed forward, one hand grabbing Marcus by the hip, first positioning and then holding him in place, the other drawing one buttock aside to make room.

"You really want that?" He hesitated in mid-movement for a short fraction of time, knowing the answer already. John didn't bother to contemplate if he would back down in case the other man said no.

"Yeah."

Marcus heard his own breath hitch as he felt the tip of John's cock pressing against his anus, and hissed through gritted teeth as the glans penetrated his tight ring of muscle. It stung as the other man pushed his way in but Marcus embraced the pain, turning it into pleasure, and then gradually relaxed his body to ease the passage. Contrary to his expectations, and surprisingly so, Connor bid his time and proceeded slowly instead of taking him by force.

When his cock was fully sheathed, John paused for a moment, adjusting to the new sensation that enveloped his flesh. It didn't feel that much different from a vagina, but it was a lot tighter and the nerve-endings all over his body tingled in an anticipatory thrill. Slowly, he pulled out, then pushed back into the body before him, eliciting a soft groan from Marcus that rewarded his effort.

He was still silent himself, relishing the new feel and adjusting to it as he eased in and out again, now repeating the movement at a slow and steady pace that had Marcus writhe in pleasure as much as the confinement of his bindings would allow. Marcus, whose own cock stood out rigidly, throbbing so much that it was painful.

John let a hand snake around Marcus's waist, fingers crawling through a neatly trimmed bush of curly, sturdy hair before they touched the rock hard flesh they were seeking for. His fingers hesitated for a moment; the idea of touching another man's penis was awkward to say the least, but he willed himself to it.

Fair play wasn't a common thing these days, not when fighting machines, but in bed he valued it. Taking pleasure without giving some of it back didn't seem fair to him, regardless the initial situation they had been in. Drawing a deep breath, and with it courage, John kept his body perfectly still as his hand wrapped around the heated shaft, lingering for a moment until it made the first stroke.

A strangled cry escaped Marcus's throat and he bucked his hips forward to meet the hand, to urge for more. The grip around his cock tightened in reflex and he pushed again, trying to force movement. He was helpless, his body so strung up that it was close to bursting and shattering to pieces. Marcus let out a frustrated snarl and it was a hint that John caught, setting in motion again with both hips and hand in reply.

Coordinating both proved to be a rather difficult task though. Marcus kept writhing and urging while John's strokes were unsteady and he had trouble finding the right rhythm. Ultimately, he closed his eyes, blocking out everything but the raw lust and need that he felt, not minding his surroundings and the man he had entered. He imagined to stroke his own flesh with his hand, and while he pumped into Marcus, he was able to let his hand move at the exact same pace.

Each inward thrust would bring his hand up the shaft, fingers brushing over the glans, giving it an extra squeeze ever so often, while every outward pull would send it down the length again in a forceful stroke. Beads of sweat formed on John's forehead and his breath merely came out in ragged gasps from the exertion.

Marcus had long since squeezed his eyes shut, bright stars dancing in the darkness as he concentrated on the tension that was building up in his lower belly and groin. His whole body was aching for release and if his limbs got any stiffer, they would snap like twigs at the lightest of touches. Something wet met his back, and if he could've turned around he would have seen that Connor was resting his forehead against him for support.

There was a sudden noise of voices talking and laughing down the hallway, catching both of them off-guard but startling John even more than his captive. If his people barged in against his orders to check on him, to make sure he was still alive, he would be screwed. Literally.

"Shit," he whispered and throttled his pace, keeping his breathing low and straining his ears. He was always attentive, coulnd't afford not to be with Skynet hunting him day after day. But no one said he had to freeze entirely.

Marcus turned his head to the right and almost bit into his own shoulder to muffle the string of cuss words he was uttering in frustration. He'd felt his impending orgasm, that they were forced to slow down to a more lazy pace was sheer torture.

The noise died down again and Connor let out a short, rough chuckle, murmuring, "saved by the bell," before he picked up speed again. He was content that his orders were being obeyed by his people, but there was still the possibility of being caught and that just added that certain edge to what he was, no, what they were doing.

His animal fed on the thrill as he plunged into Marcus, and this time he didn't have much trouble syncing the movements of his body and hand. All his senses focused on the center of his body where his climax built, primal instincts taking over the reign and shutting out everything else.

He felt his hand tighten even more around Marcus's cock, was aware of the frantic strokes that kept pushing the other man toward the edge. And John waited, using every bit of resolve he had left to keep himself at bay and let the other man come first. Only to prove that he could exert that kind of control, that he was powerful enough to have another do his bidding, come at his will while he himself lasted.

Every nerve-ending inside Marcus was ablaze. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was sweet music to his ears, his butt felt both raw and amazing at the same time, and the hand working on his cock was almost too much for him to bear. It had just the right grip on him, a little on the tight and squeezing side, just as he loved it.

He felt heat rush over his body and then something seemed to tug at his groin, straining until it snapped, and it felt like giant flood-gates opening as his orgasm washed over him in concentric circles that had their epicenter in his lower abdomen.

Marcus cried out his release, spilling over John's hand, his body spasming violently as that imperious hand kept stroking his flesh, dragging out his orgasm. And then it was John's turn to cry. His balls were almost unbearably tight and when Marcus's body started convulsing around him, literally milking him, there was no holding back anymore. He pressed his face against the other man's back, screaming silently into the flesh as he rode on the waves of his climax, pushing into Marcus until he felt drained.

John felt his knees go weak and allowed himself to slump down to the ground on all fours, resting his forehead against the cool metal floor, trying to even out his breathing. Marcus just sagged in his chains, still panting heavily and more than anything else longing for the ability to move again. The aftershock of his orgasm still rippled through his body, crawled over his skin, and he would've loved to just curl up instead of hanging from the ceiling like a human candelabra.

Even with the chance of getting caught John needed to rest a bit, feeling too exhausted to get straight back to business, and he was grateful that only the sound of heavy breathing penetrated the silence in the room. When the world around him had stopped spinning, John got up from the floor and pulled up his pants; he was even considerate enough to pull up Marcus's as well.

Both men stared at each other silently, not knowing what to say or how to go from there. It was Marcus who found his voice first.

"Let me go." It wasn't a demand, it was a plea.

"No."

"Why?"

"I can't trust you."

"Look at me," Marcus offered. "I need to find who did this to me. So do you. Kyle Reese is in Skynet, I can bring you in. I'm the only hope you have." There was a heavy pause, and a flicker of defeat clouded his expression as he glanced down along his body and back up again. "Make your choice."

John scrutinized him carefully, this ragged man that was so desperately seeking revenge on those who had abused him, who had mutilated his body in the worst possible way. After what they'd shared maybe he deserved a little trust. Blair believed in Marcus, and John had always trusted Blair. He willed himself to have faith in Marcus as well.

"You get me in. You tell me where I can find Kyle Reese. Yeah?"

"I will," Marcus promised solemnly and John believed. He undid the chains holding him and helped Marcus step down to the ground. Then he led the way to a hidden emergency exit, handing the cyborg a radio.

He held the door open for Marcus to step through. One final request that sounded more like an order, before the other man would leave, "contact me on that, let me know if he's still alive." Marcus nodded in affirmation and John squinted at him.

"Who are you?" 'Who', the final acknowledgment of Marcus's humanity.

There was an unfathomable amount of sadness in the cyborg's eyes that spoke to a great pain. "I don't know."

And with that, he was gone.

It would only be later, after the attack on Skynet, after John suffering a fatal blow to the heart, that Marcus would be granted his second chance by giving up his own life in order so save John's.

Blair would kiss him for that; she could've probably loved him if they'd been given more time. But Marcus, even though accepting the kiss, would only miss the feel of stubble against his skin. Stubble, that would never prickle anyone else's skin if he merely stood by and watched.

He and John would never be partners, perhaps not even friends. It would be the best he could do for everyone involved. And it would be then, when Marcus would close his eyes for one last time that he, the Terminator, would finally find his salvation.

The End 


End file.
